


7 Times Daryl Got Lucky

by Lamport



Category: The Walking Dead (TV)
Genre: Alexandria - Freeform, F/M, Post Series, Smangst, Smut, season 5
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-09-05
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-19 03:02:00
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 18,716
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4730342
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lamport/pseuds/Lamport
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for the Nine Lives "Little Bit of Luck" challenge.  Each chapter is based on a luck prompt from the challenge.  Unapologetic smut abounds.  Some angst in chapter 4. Enjoy!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Horseshoes

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own The Walking Dead. These characters aren't mine, I just like to play with them. Thanks to my lovely beta Stephtron312.
> 
> Carol stops by Aaron's garage to admire Daryl's handiwork.

Daryl was in the middle of tuning up his bike in Aaron's garage when Carol made her way up the driveway (brake pads needed replacing and the chainwheel needed some lube).  She had long since given up trying to pass herself off as invisible (thank fuck) and strode up to him in her combat boots.  They were a little scuffed up but still tough, kind of like her.   

 

"Hey," he greeted, wiping his greasy hands on the rag beside the chain he'd just finished cleaning.

 

"Hi."

 

She smiled at him, coming closer to inspect the work table fashioned by some plywood and a few sawhorses where he'd thrown the tarp off the bike.  It was strewn with the contents of a socket wrench kit and bottles of oil and lube.  For some reason he was embarrassed to have her see it so messy.  

 

"Just finishing up.  Be home in time for dinner."

 

She turned to face him, moving to lean on the table.  She was close enough for him to catch the sugar sweet smell of cookies that clung to her ever since they entered the safe zone.  Her gaze flitted from his mouth to his eyes.  She lifted one eyebrow a fraction of an inch. He felt his dick twitch and his mouth go dry.

 

"Careful. You'll get dirty," he warned.  

 

She smirked and leaned forward to kiss his bare shoulder. 

 

"Aaron and Eric still out?" She murmured, the lilt in her voice betraying her hopefulness.

 

"Yeah," he managed to huff out. 

They'd only been fooling around for a few weeks now (never quite getting all the way), but it was like a switch had been flipped.  Suddenly all he could think about was getting Carol alone and out of her clothes.  She was messing with his head - throwing off his hunting game, making him clumsy, distracting him at dinner when her knee pressed against his thigh under the table.

 

"When are they due back?" 

 

One of her hands found its way under the hem of his shirt, circling gently around the puckered scar below his ribs before trailing down to his hip.  It was impossible to talk to her when she touched him like this.  He flicked his eyes from her face to the wide open garage door.  Anyone could see them, and that only made him harder.  

 

He cleared his throat, and continued wiping his hands on the rag, trying to keep it together.

 

"Soon."

 

She sighed and moved her hands away from his body.  He didn't know whether to be relieved or disappointed.  He tried to take a few deep breaths to calm himself.  It would be beyond embarrassing if Aaron caught him in here practically busting out of his pants. He'd never hear the end of it. 

 

Carol made her way back to the door.  She turned to face him, the corner of her mouth quirking upwards before she leaned against the wall and pressed the garage door button.  With a loud buzzing noise it began to close, clanking and clattering until they were left alone in the dark with nothing but a thin strip of light coming through the gap between the door and the driveway. 

 

"Did I ever tell you how hot it is when you work on your bike?" she purred, her voice coming closer in the dark.  His eyes strained to adjust, but all he could make out were those boots as they moved towards him. 

 

He swallowed hard. "Uh... No."

 

The smell of cookies was his only warning before he felt her nimble fingers tugging on his belt, her hot breath in his ear.

 

"Well, it makes me kind of crazy," she panted.

 

He could relate.  Every little thing she did made him crazy too, like the way she pressed her tits against his chest while she unzipped his fly.  Something snapped in him.  He pulled her closer, dropped the rag to the floor and grasped the back of her head so he could kiss that dirty mouth.  She responded in kind, parting her lips against his tongue and moaning into his mouth. 

 

He let out a sound between a moan and a gasp when her hand grasped him firmly.  She stroked him at a feverish pace that made his legs tremble and forced him to lean hard on the work table to keep from falling over.

 

Her skilled movements stalled his ability to concentrate on anything but her hands and the rush of pleasure that coursed through his body, threatening to crest at any second.  She panted heavily against his open mouth as though she felt it too, even though all he'd succeeded in doing was standing there like a chump while she had her way with him.

 

"Daryl?" her voice was oddly shy considering what she was doing.  "I...I want to taste you.  Is that alright?" She slowed her pace, ran her fingers through the course hair of his groin, then dipped low to press his balls against her palm. 

 

" _Fuck_ , Carol," he managed to bite out against her swollen lips.  She giggled.  She fucking  _giggled_. 

 

She took his cursing as consent and quickly knelt on the oil stained floor between him and the table and took him in her mouth.  If having her touch him was heaven, her wet mouth was pure bliss.  She moved her hands to his hips and urged him to thrust against her.  He tried desperately to hold back, worried he would hurt her, but he was helpless to resist the hot pressure surrounding him.  

 

The sound of it was what really did him in.  In the darkness he couldn't even make out her face when he looked down - only heard her muffled sucking and moaning, felt the slick walls of her mouth and her breath flowing over his heated flesh.  

 

Far too soon it was all over.  He tried to warn her - choked out her name.  Part of him wanted to pull away, but a more primal one wanted to cum down the back of her throat.  She made the decision for him when she tightened her grip on his hips and forced him to stay in place.  The millisecond he registered her intention he came so hard he saw stars.

 

The buzzing from the garage door opener was all the warning they got before they realized they had company.  He froze, looked down at Carol in panic while fading sunlight began to flood into the space, but she was already moving, tucking him hastily back in his pants and scrambling under the table to hide behind the tarp.  

 

Before he could blink Aaron and Eric were walking up the driveway with a picnic basket between them.  

 

"Oh, Daryl! You're still here," Eric said brightly.

 

"We thought you might have left since the door was shut.  Why didn't you turn on a light?" Aaron chided, flipping a switch on the wall and bathing the garage in fluorescent light.  

 

"Uhh... I work better in the dark," he muttered, blushing at the ridiculousness of his excuse.

 

"Okay. Well, stay as long as you like.  We're just going to get dinner started," Eric said.  Aaron paused at the door and pulled a rusty horseshoe out of the basket.

 

"I forgot to mention, if you see any of these pick them up.  We need at least three more for our horseshoe tournament." 

 

"Right.  Horseshoes. Gottcha."

 

Aaron passed some empty tupperware to Eric before shoving the basket on top of one of the tool cabinets.  Daryl hastily picked up the rag he'd dropped to the floor and started organizing the ratchet set with shaky hands.  The two men walked past him and into the house before he let out the breath he'd been holding.

 

Underneath the table he heard Carol giggle. He pulled the tarp back and reached out a hand to help her up.

 

"'I work better in the dark?' Are you serious?" she snorted, covering her mouth with her hand to try and keep quiet.

 

He felt the heat in his face rise to his ears.  "Shut up."

 

She smiled and gave him a chaste peck on the cheek before heading for the door with a little skip in her step.  Her cheeks were flushed and dust coated her knees.  He had to bite his lip to keep from laughing.

 

"You better watch out," he warned, "Payback's a bitch."

 

She stopped dead halfway down the drive before she turned to him, narrowing her eyes.

 

"I'm shaking in my boots."

 


	2. Acorns

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl and Carol fight and make up - sort of.

Carol was pissed.  What's worse, she was pissed at him and he didn't know why.  They were outside the safe zone, hiking through the woods towards an outpost to replenish supplies he'd used up on a recruitment run a few days ago.  If it weren't for the foul mood between them he would have considered it a beautiful day - early fall, not too hot, not too cool.  In front of him Carol was striding purposefully ahead, compass in her hand, doing her best to ignore the fact that he was trying to talk to her.

 

"This is what I'm talkin about.  You get all quiet and moody and shit," he muttered, stepping over deadfall he eyed carefully.

 

She spun around so fast he nearly bumped into her.  When he risked a glance at her face her eyes were incredulous. 

 

"Me?   _I'm_  the moody one?" she hissed, moving to grab the canteen hanging from his shoulder.

 

"Yeah! I  _know you_ , but I ain't a damn mind reader," he huffed, unscrewing the cap and passing it to her.  She took it out of his hands, careful not to touch his fingers.

 

"You gotta talk to me," he finished quietly, trying hard to calm the blood boiling in his body.  She was so hasty with the water that she spilled some out of the corner of her mouth.  The droplets shone like tiny rainbows trailing down the column of her throat.

 

She gave him a pointed look before swiping at her wet lips with her sleeve.

 

"Fair enough," he sighed, taking a swig of his own.  They kept hiking in silence for a few minutes, but this time she fell back to walk at his side.  He took that as a good sign.

 

"I don't know what I'm thinking half the time, alright? I don't want to say the wrong thing and scare you away," she said, resigned.  She wasn't looking at him, just fidgeting with the compass and scanning the area for walkers.

 

"That ain't gonna happen," he said.  He stopped walking abruptly, angered that she would assume the worst of him.

 

"Maybe," she conceded, glancing at him furtively from the corner of her eye.  "But this? Us?" She gestures weakly to the space between their bodies, "I don't know how to do this."

 

"Me neither, but I'm tryin!"  He didn't mean to raise his voice, and winced when it came out so raw.  She nodded her head and tried to wipe a stray tear from her cheek without him noticing.  It felt like a sucker punch to the gut.

 

Their path took them through an overgrown field of barley and under the shade of a massive oak.  The leaves are half gone, acorns littering the ground.  If they were still eating squirrels he'd come back here to hunt.

 

The tension between them is tighter than the strings on his bow and it's making him fidget.  He just wants to go back to a few days ago when they were kissing and laughing in bed together.  When she still seemed to like him.

 

"How about we just forget it and do what we do best?" she said, breaking the silence.  He thought he was imagining things until he felt her fingers slide down the palm of his hand and through his own.

 

He barked out a laugh, eyebrows pinching together.

 

"You wanna  _do_  it?  _Now_?"

 

Sure enough, when he looked in her eyes he could see lust mixed with her anger.

 

"Why not?" she said, enunciating the words slowly like he didn't understand English, sounding even more angry that he would question the gift of sex she'd just dropped in his lap.

 

"Because you're mad."

 

He knows he shouldn't give in.  This won't solve anything, but damn if it won't take the edge off.

 

"So?"

 

She regarded him coolly for a moment, before sweeping her eyes around their surroundings and heading towards a thick tree branch that hung low to the ground, pulling him with her. 

 

Once she was satisfied with their location she set about dropping her pack and checking the bullets in her revolver before unbuttoning her shirt. 

 

"Take your pants off," she said, shrugging out of her shirt to stand before him in her bra and pants, gun in her hand.  

 

His bow fell to the ground with a thud as he rushed to shed his vest and shirt.  She still glared at him, but her lips turned up in a mischievous grin.  She turned around to push her pants down her legs and paused to work at the buckles on her boots, giving him an eye full of her perfect ass.  She was going to kill him. He knelt down behind her then, running his hands roughly up the creamy skin of her thighs before burying his face in her heat.

 

She cried out, throwing a hand out to brace herself on the branch while he licked and sucked.  He grunted with satisfaction at the way her body yielded to him.  She was mad, but she was still his.

 

He paused long enough to catch her breath and pull one of her legs out of the tangle of her pants and boots, turning her to lean against the branch before he dove back to taste her again.  Her hands came to his head and dug into his scalp, pulling on his hair.  She had never been this rough with him before - the newness of it made him rock hard.

 

Suddenly she pulled hard on his hair, forcing his head back.  Her eyes were still steel, but a beautiful shade of pink flushed across her neck and collarbone.  "Fuck me," she said, in a tone he'd never heard before.  

 

He wasted no time in righting himself, ignoring the head rush he got from standing up so fast.  Her hands made quick work of his pants, grasping at him desperately.  He kissed her then, hard and deep, pulling her lower lip with his teeth while she stroked him.  His lips fell to her throat as he lifted her to sit on the branch, urging her to wrap her legs around him.  Her arms come up to his shoulders, the butt of her gun digging into him.

 

They locked eyes when he pushed into her without warning, and he saw a tiny glimmer of her softness hidden in the blue.  She started to tremble and shake before he even finished half a dozen thrusts.  He ducked his head to her breasts, pulling at the cups of her bra to suck at her nipples.  She clamped her legs tight around his waist when she came, curling forward to whimper her ecstasy with her lips pressed firmly to the base of his neck.  He felt her teeth bite down on him before he came apart.

 

When he came back to himself Carol still had one leg wrapped weakly around him.  The other one hung limply off the tree branch with her pants and boot still attached to it. One strap of her bra dangled loosely at her elbow, while the underwire dug into her waist.  She ran her fingers softly through his hair, pulling out a stray oak leaf.  He hadn't fared much better.  His boots were still on, pants pooled around his ankles.  The breeze felt cool on his sweaty body, causing him to shiver.

 

She brushed strands of hair away from his face, tucking them behind his ear.  The cold metal of her revolver pressed against the small of his back.  She smiled.  He smiled back.

 

"What were we fightin about?" he murmured, licking sweat from her breastbone.

 

"Who cares," she sighed, "I'm sorry."

 

"Me too."

 

"Can I get off this branch now? It's hurting my ass."


	3. Four Leaf Clover

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl catches up with Carol over whisky and cookies.

It was late by the time he and Aaron rolled up to the gates - long past lights out.  They killed the engine on the old beater his recruiting partner had resorted to using, and walked to the gates in the quiet.  With the weather turning colder he was forced to leave his bike behind.

Aaron grabbed a flashlight out of his pack and clicked it on and off a few times in the direction of the watch tower.  A series of whistles from behind the wall led to the gate sliding open just enough for them to slip through.  The streets were dark and quiet, which did much to calm him. 

This last run had presented them with a nasty group of assholes that they wouldn’t dream of welcoming here.  Daryl had seen them toying with walkers – fondling the breasts of a fresh one while crushing its head with a brick.  It was enough to make the bile rise in his throat when he reported back to Aaron later in the day.  That bothered him – not the actions of the men he saw, but the fact that it unsettled him so much.  He was becoming weak. 

In a lot of ways it felt like they were the only ones who truly knew what was out there.  Rick had assured him that they wouldn’t get soft, but it was already happening.  He heard Maggie and Glenn talking about politics over dinner last week.  Abe settled out on the front porch every evening with a beer in his hand and sawdust on his overalls.  Father Gabriel was back in that fucking monkey suit, preaching his high and mighty ideals like he hadn’t eaten dog like the rest of them.  The women of Alexandria clucked like hens around Carol, covered in perfume and make-up, earrings dangling dangerously (too easy to rip them out).  Carol though – she was the only one who seemed immune.  If they were overrun tomorrow she’d be ready.

He let out a breath, watching the air fog in the chilly air.  Beside him Aaron was shivering.  The damn heat stopped working a few days ago, making for an even more uncomfortable ride.  Thankfully it made for a quieter trip.  Aaron usually talked enough for the both of them, telling him all about his life in Washington before the Turn, how he met Eric, what pets he had as a kid.  It never ended.  Despite that he’d grown to respect the man – especially when he made no bones about the fact that he’d rather lose Daryl on a run than the love of his life.  Merle would be rolling in his grave if he knew, but the apocalypse had a way of changing a person’s mind about what mattered.

They walked on in silence, making their way by the light of the stars overhead in a clear sky.  As they approached Aaron’s house they slowed.

“Can you meet me tomorrow morning to see Deanna? Tell her what you told me about those men?” Aaron said, barely above a whisper, as though speaking of them like they were ghosts would make them less real and less of a threat.

Daryl nodded once slowly.

“Alright.  Well then, goodnight, Daryl.”

“Night.”

Aaron waved to him from outside his door before going in.

Three houses down he arrived at his own porch, startled to see a low light glowing through the curtains.  He dropped his bow and pack by the door and went to investigate.  The living room was dark, coffee table littered with Carl’s comics and one of Asskicker’s socks.  For some reason, after all the shit he’d seen today, it made him smile.

When he turned the corner to the kitchen he found the light on above the stove.  Carol was there at the island, wearing a thick blue bathrobe, dropping cookie batter from a spoon onto a baking tray.  Her face was grave, like cookie baking was a life-or-death activity.  The oven was on, adding extra warmth to the room that made him sleepy.  He felt the tension drain from his shoulders just from being near her – seeing her safe.

“Hey,” he whispered.

She looked up at him, the strain on her face dropping away to be replaced by a familiar smile that shone from her eyes.  It made his heart beat a little faster, like the first drag on a cigarette.  A rush.  

She dropped the spoon in the mixing bowl and came around the counter to place her hands on either side of his face, greeting him with a soft kiss followed by a warm hug.

“You okay?” she asked.

“Yeah. Long day,” he replied, bringing a hand to her neck.  The heat of her body was irresistible.  She jumped out of his arms at the shock of his cold fingers.

“You’re freezing!” she hissed, trying to keep her voice down. “Let me make you some tea. Warm you up.”

He snorted. “I got a better idea.”

He moved past her, reaching for the cupboard above the stove to grab the whisky Rick stashed there.  He popped the cork off the bottle with his teeth and made to take a swig straight from it when Carol pushed a glass against his shoulder.  Right.  They weren’t out  _there_ anymore.

He splashed a few mouthfuls in the glass and passed the bottle to Carol, raising one eyebrow.  She pursed her lips, considering, then eyed him daringly and took a dainty sip before corking the bottle and putting it back.  He chuckled and took a sip of his own.  The liquid burned its way down his throat to settle low in his belly, stoking a fire.

"You smell," she said, a little playfully. He pulled his collar up past his nose and took a sniff.  She was right.  He smelled like sweat and gasoline from a truck they had to siphon. He'd shower later - all he wanted was to stay with her a little longer.

Carol went back to the island to finish off the cookie tray.  He leaned on the counter and regarded her quietly, utterly at peace in the warmth of the kitchen with a drink in his hand.  She was methodical – ensuring each glob of batter was equally sized, shaping the dough with hands greasy with butter.  As she leaned over the counter he could see the contours of her collarbone and the slight swell of her breasts.  The robe gaped open slightly and for the first time he contemplated the possibility that she wasn’t wearing anything underneath it.

“You okay?” he asked.  The clock on the stove flashed 2:00 in glaring blue lines. “Little late for all this.”  He gestured to the island strewn with flour and measuring cups.

“Couldn’t sleep,” she said, wiping her hands on a towel.  “I was waiting for you.” She handed him the mixing bowl and spoon, smiling as he wiped up the leftover batter with his fingers, licking them clean.  The sweetness from the sugar mixed with the whisky on his tongue.  It was delicious.

“Didn’t have to.”

She sidled past him with the cookie tray and placed it carefully in the oven, setting the timer.

“I know.  I was missing you,” she admitted, coming to lean against the counter at his side.  He likes her there, right at his hip.

“That right?” he asked, blushing a little.  It still surprised him to think she could feel the way he did about her.  That she could feel the sweet ache too. 

“I played poker with Carl, Michonne and Rick, read my book, had a bath, tried to sleep, but..” she trailed off, snagging the glass from his hand and taking another sip.  He turned to her, trapping her against the counter, bringing his hands to her hips and rubbing them with his thumbs.

“…I was thinking about you, and the night before you left.”

Her eyes turned dark and her voice was barely above a whisper.  He felt his body harden and propel towards her, her eyes drawing him into their depths.

He remembered that night too.  As much as he assured her that he would be safe, they were both rattled by their inevitable separation.  He wanted to savour every moment with her in their bed, coaxing her to climax twice before he ever slipped inside her.

She put the glass down on the counter, then ran her hands up his chest, dipping her fingers under his vest.  His hands found the knot at her waist and tugged.  He stepped back slightly to watch the robe fall open, revealing a long strip of naked skin like a present.  Damn - she definitely left her clothes elsewhere. She sighed, closing her eyes slightly while he moved his palms to the soft warmth of her belly.

“I tried to do it myself – but I couldn’t without you.”

He closed his eyes with a groan at the image she conjured with her confession.  She stepped closer, wrapping herself around his body and kissing his mouth.  He walked them both backwards, lifting her roughly to the counter and pressing his fingers in the muscle below her shoulder blades.  Her new perch allowed him to turn his face into her chest (he loved licking the thin swollen flesh of her tits – loved feeling her heartbeat under his lips).  The kitchen was silent but for their deep breaths, catching and releasing in quick succession.  

“Daryl,” she murmured, brushing the hair from his face with her hands.

“Mmm?”

“I think I heard someone moving upstairs.”

He tried to process what she was saying, but all he could hear was her saying  _I tried to do it myself_  on a loop in his head.  He brought his hands forward, massaging lazy circles across the top of her thighs, urging them apart.

“I don’t hear nothin.”

“ _Daryl_.”

He pulled away with a sigh, helping her pull the robe back across her heated flesh.  His dick throbbed painfully at the interruption.  She hopped off the counter.

He glanced quickly at the space around them, unwilling to let this end before they’d really got started.

“You afraid of small spaces?” he asked urgently.

“No.”

He kissed her deeply, slicking his tongue over her lips and across her teeth before pulling away.  She shuddered.

“C’mon.”

He took her hand and pulled her towards the stairs, gripping tighter when she tried to pull away at the sight of a light switching on above them.  He opened the door to the pantry and stepped into the dark.  She took the hint immediately and shoved him against the shelving before turning and closing the door.  It was a tight squeeze, but they were in.

She was so close her hair tickled his nose and the firm peach of her ass pressed against his erection, trapping him in place.  He rocked his hips into her, dropping his mouth to the side of her neck.  She stilled. 

“Stay quiet,” he whispered, nibbling at the shell of her ear.  He felt her nod.

His hands found their way back under her robe, ghosting over her ribs and belly before sliding between her legs.  He could feel her heart hammering against his chest in time with his own – but she didn’t make a sound.

She reached one arm up, holding his head in place with nimble fingers she laced through his dirty hair.  He mimicked her movement with his hand in her curls.  Her hips pushed back against him harder.  When he dipped lower he was rewarded with the feel of her wet heat coating his fingers.  He bit down on her shoulder to keep from moaning.

He inserted one finger slowly, grinding the heel of his palm against her.  The smell of her filled the space instantly – the proof of her desire for him.  He felt drunk.

She canted her hips, desperate to start a rhythm.  Soon she was thrusting into his hand in tight circles while he brought a hand to her mouth to muffle the sound of the small whimpers that escaped from deep in her throat. 

The stairs above them creaked loudly.

He inserted a second finger and flicked his thumb against her swollen clit before pumping into her quickly.  The change in pace always did it.  She shuddered violently, and stumbled against him, gripping hard on his head as she came silently.  Her muscles spasmed and clenched intimately around his fingers while he struggled not to let go in his pants.

He was still stroking her when their mystery visitor reached the bottom of the stairs.  He was positive it was Rick by the weight of the step, and his suspicion was confirmed when he peered out from the crack in the middle of the closet door.  He was wearing nothing but boxers that looked two sizes too big.

Carol pressed a kiss against the palm he’d forgotten he was holding against her mouth.  He let her go quickly, running his fingers against her chin in apology.

Rick moved to the fridge to drink water straight from the pitcher, bending low to dig for something.  His movement caused his boxers to fall lower, revealing his pale ass.  And just like that, Daryl felt himself beginning to soften.  Carol leaned forward slightly to look closer.  He was just on the verge of being offended by her actions, but he suddenly noticed what she was looking at.

The timer on the stove beeped loudly and all three of them jumped.

“Shit,” Carol hissed.

Rick looked around and fumbled with the oven settings until the timer was shut off, then grabbed an oven mitt and took the cookies out.  After stealing a piping-hot cookie he headed back upstairs, nonplused, scratching the back of his head and yawning.

Just like that they were clutching each other in the pantry trying to contain their laughter.

“Was that a tattoo of a four-leaf  _clover_?” she giggled.

“Yep.  Smack dab in the middle of his ass,” he confirmed, wiping tears from his eyes.

“Well, at least the cookies didn’t burn.”        

 


	4. Rainbow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl learns another way to comfort Carol.
> 
> Fair warning: this one is a little angsty. Very different tone from the last chapter.

When he found Carol she was sitting on the edge of the bed in their room, shoulders slumped inwards.  He knew then that this wasn’t about some stupid disagreement.  All Olivia had told him was that the ladies had been sorting clothes out of suitcases that he’d found with Aaron on a run last week in an abandoned truck, and that Carol had snapped at her and took off.  Olivia had assumed that she was upset over how the piles of blouses and dresses were being distributed – which only demonstrated what a dumbass the woman was.  Hell,  _all_  the women around Alexandria were stupid as far as he could tell.

 

He leaned into the room and knocked once on the door frame.  She turned her head to him briefly before she looked back at her hands in her lap.  Her quick glance had shown him all he needed to see – her eyes glistening, her nose and throat red and blotchy.

 

He came in the room, shut the door, and sidled up to her, sitting heavily on the mattress an arm’s length away.  It somehow made it less daunting then trying to talk to her face-to-face.  For the first time he noticed that she had something in her hands – some blue material crumpled up in a ball in her fists.  She handed it over to him without comment, and he spread it out on his lap. 

 

Everything fell into place.  This was what set her off.

 

It was a t-shirt, so small the armholes were barely bigger than his wrists.  He saw it in his dreams sometimes, a cutesy pink heart at the end of a rainbow.  Each colourful ray curving and trailing off into smaller hearts, like the love in it couldn’t be contained. 

 

The last time he saw this rainbow it was all but obscured by dirt and blood –  _her_ blood.  It was just a shirt, but it felt like a shroud in his hands.  Carol turned her head enough to look at it again, smoothing the wrinkles out on his lap, and traced the rainbow with her fingers. 

 

She was hurting and he’d give anything to stop it.

 

It was times like these he desperately wished he wasn’t such a fuck up.  Wished he knew how to act like a  _normal_  person and offer another person comfort.  Be the man Carol needed him to be.

 

If it were Merle there, sitting alone crying (as unlikely as that seemed) he would have cuffed him on the shoulder, offered him a smoke, told him to stop being a pussy.  More than likely he would have slunk out of the room and pretended he hadn’t seen anything; wait for his brother to snap out of it and get back to being an asshole.   

 

He wracked his brain trying to think of times he’d  _really_ been comforted.  When his momma died everyone’s sympathy seemed fake as shit. He hid under the table at the wake and listened to people whisper about her being an alcoholic and a shitty parent, then stared at them, stone-faced, when they gave him their condolences minutes later.  Their words meant nothing. 

 

When the old man died he didn’t need comforting. He was full of bitterness, and rage that erupted at the slightest provocation - but that didn’t stop people from saying stupid shit like, “Sorry for your loss.”  He and Merle weren’t sorry – hell, they celebrated.  Took the truck for a spin, went out shooting, locked up that fucking tin-can trailer and didn’t look back.

 

The only person who really offered him any real peace when he was hurting was Carol.  She was so  _good_  at it – like it came as natural to her as breathing.  She was the one who always knew what to say, or  _not_  say.  Knew how to touch him, and where.  When to offer hugs and when to let it be.

 

Things were different between them now.  They were a pair in every way he never expected they could be (in every way he’d never thought he deserved).  So even though he had little knowledge of easing the pain of others, he took solace in the fact that at least he knew  _her_.  For her sake he’d try.

 

He brought a hand over hers, stilling her fingertips over the pink heart.  She didn’t pull away.  He rubbed his palm against hers, turning her hand over gently to lace their fingers together.  She kept her grip slack, almost like she didn’t really feel it.  He glanced at her in his periphery and saw that she was still trapped somewhere inside herself.  Her eyes were dark and fixed on the floor.

 

He shifted towards her a little, like closing the gap between their bodies would close the gap between him and the walls she was trapped behind.  He lifted their hands with a gentle twist of his arm and brought her knuckles to his lips, pressed a chaste kiss there – hard enough for her to feel.

 

She let out a shaky sigh.  The pressure of his mouth brought her back to the room. 

 

“I thought it couldn’t hurt so much anymore,” she said, her voice cracking a little.

 

He didn’t know what to say to that.  In his experience there was no limit to pain, so he just kept touching her.  He ran his other hand down the soft skin of her arm, right down to the inside of her elbow, stroked and stroked in light circles, kept kissing her knuckles. 

 

He’d seen her with the people of Alexandria.  She always kept away from the kids - stopped holding Judith.  It was such a drastic change from the days at the prison when she had a constant clutch of little ones following her around, seeking her approval, looking for love.  And even though she never told him about it, he knew it had everything to do with her missing girls. 

 

Not for the first time he wondered what it would have been like to have a child with her.  The thought made him ache a little – but there was no room in the world for regret and thoughts about what might have been.

 

He thought of all of this while he ran his hands along her arm, gradually shifting closer to her side to rest their knees together.  She turned towards him and he was relieved to see that she wasn’t crying anymore, but her eyes looked so sad it hurt to look at her.  He turned his face against the soft skin at her throat, nuzzled his nose against her jaw, and felt the weight of her slumping against him.

 

He had no idea what he was doing (any thoughts he tried to form jumbled in his head before they could make it out of his mouth), but he knew it felt good to touch her, and reasoned it must feel good to her too.

 

Her warm lips ghosted across his forehead, pressing against his hair.  He could feel her breath flowing over his scalp.  She moved her hand from his grip, touched his knee with tentative fingers before exhaling in a rush and running her palm up the inside of his thigh.

 

Her touch startled him, but not as much as the intention behind it.  He pulled his face back to look at her, question what she was confirming with her practiced caress.

 

“Please?” she pleaded, eyes fixed on his.

 

But she didn’t have to ask.  He’d never been able to deny her anything.  He nodded.

 

It was surreal kissing her through the salt of the tears that had dried on her face, pulling the sweater and bra off her body, lying down with her on the bed in the middle of the day.  They’d never done this with sunshine streaming through the window, laying bare the secrets of their bodies. 

 

There was no rush.  He took his time kissing her wrists and arms before bringing his mouth to hers.  He  _felt_  her pain.  It seeped through her and into him wherever their skin touched – and it was a relief somehow to share it.   _If this is all I can do, then it’s what I’ll do_ , he thought.  

 

He sat up, removed his own shirt and let her see the scars while he unbuckled her boots and tossed them on the floor.  He moved over her - pressed his weight onto her slight body and into the mattress.  Settled his bare chest against hers and kissed her ear. 

 

She shook beneath him.  He realized with a start that she was crying.  Her arms came up around his shoulders, clinging to him, pulling him harder against her.  Silent sobs wracked her body.  He stilled.

 

“S’okay,” he murmured, even though it wasn’t.  He stayed there, laying on top of her for what felt like an age.  The sunbeam from the window had moved from the floor to the wall.

 

When her breath returned to steady inhales in time with his own he pulled back, propped himself up on his elbows and stared down at her face.  She avoided his gaze, but sighed when he pushed the hair back from her forehead and kissed her there.

 

“I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

 

He shook his head.

 

“What you gotta apologize for?”

 

She let out a dark laugh that vibrated against his chest, but her eyes met his.

 

“Being such a mess?  Breaking down because of a t-shirt?”

 

“Stop.”

 

She turned her head and looked past his face, but he leaned with her, forcing her to look in his eyes.  He remembered then what she always did for him.  How she made him feel better, just by being there.

 

“Hey.  I ain’t going nowhere.”

 

He emphasized his point by rolling his hips into hers, pushing her deeper into the bed.  He watched fascinated while a hundred emotions played across her face before she gave him a small smile that had him breathing easier.

 

Her hands roamed down his back, across his ribs and down to his hips, playing with the belt loops of his pants.  And before he knew it they were stripped of the rest of their clothing and moving together while the warm sunlight moved to fall across his back.  She kept his face in her hands the whole time, unwilling to let go, so he just kept saying it – “I ain’t going nowhere.”

 

With her eyes piercing into him, he found a lazy rhythm that he was unwilling to see end.  When his body screamed at him to go faster, he slowed, kissing her deeply and holding back.  Carol let out puffs of air with every thrust he made into her, sweat beading along her neck and shoulders.  She never looked more beautiful.

 

It was hypnotic and powerful, like the first time he sat in a sweat lodge and felt his mind leave his body.  A trance punctuated by the sound of their staccato breaths and the occasional creak of the bed frame.  He felt her flesh, slick and hot everywhere they came together, surrendering to him - the perfect pressure of their give and take.

 

Her eyelids fluttered closed to focus on the pleasure.  She let out a low moan and jerked beneath him, shuddering and crying out his name even as her hips struggled to keep time with his.  He forced himself to slow down, throbbing everywhere, and kissed one of her eyebrows. She cracked an eye open, flushed faced and serious.

 

“Don’t stop.  Please.”

 

He wasn’t sure he could if he wanted to.  And to his surprise some time later, when the sunbeam had made its way clear across the room, nearly kissing the ceiling, she shuddered around him again, gripping the hair of his head, her face sweaty and glowing.  Her fingers pulled back, and she ran her thumbs across his forehead, brushed his bangs away from his face and tucked them behind his ears.  For reasons he couldn’t explain, that was what did him in, and in a few more shaky strokes it was over.

 

When he came to the room was dark and he could feel Carol’s breath, deep and even underneath him.  Her hand ran lightly along his side.

 

“Thank you,” she murmured.

 

“Anytime.”

 

She laughed.  They would be okay.


	5. Medal of St. Christopher

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl encounters some bad luck on a run.
> 
> This one is a wee bit dark with some questionable consent - nothing terrible, but I'd hate it to be a trigger if you weren't expecting it.

Daryl was no stranger to bad luck, but this was getting ridiculous.  When he and Aaron drove out of the gates of Alexandria last week, with a shiny silver medallion hanging from a chain off the rearview mirror, things were looking up.  They had survived the onslaught of a massive herd without too many casualties, spring flood waters were receding leaving new roads to unchartered back roads and the possibility of good scavenging, and finding good people.  Best of all, he and Carol had made things “official” and moved into one room together.  Hell, even the sun had been shining.  That was before things went to complete and utter shit.

They were only supposed to be out for three days - two fucking nights.  He wasn’t all that surprised that things went off the rails early on, but looking back he wished he’d had the sense to turn back.  First it was the bike.  He used to consider himself decent at welding, but the lack of filler metal combined with the fact that the parts were all different shapes and sizes meant that some of his more creative solutions to building the bike weren’t holding up.  The first day out he hit a pothole hard enough to bend the front axle and cracked the rim so bad they had no choice but to drag it into the tree line and cover it up with branches as best they could until they could get a truck to take it back.

He’d been so pissed – mostly at himself for daydreaming about the night before instead of paying attention to the road.  He went clear over the handlebars and landed hard on his back.  Thank the lord Carol insisted he wear a helmet or he might not have lived to tell the tale.  Aaron had tried to convince him to head back to the zone, get some medical attention, but his pride was hurt more than his tailbone so they piled in the car and kept going.

The next day they encountered another herd.  It was smaller than the one they’d fought off, but big enough to force them to detour a day’s drive to reach their destination and take them out of radio range.  It was around that time when Aaron started coughing and sniffling.  Daryl felt some sympathy for the man at first, but it quickly evaporated as Aaron scared away all the game in a ten mile radius and kept him up at night.  That time Daryl was the one who suggested they go back, but Aaron insisted it was just allergies and he’d be fine.

By the fourth day the rain came, turning the dirt roads they were travelling on into mud pits.  In a former life he’d enjoyed taking his truck out mudding – felt the satisfaction of skillfully maneuvering four wheels up a slick hill.  Out here it was a goddamn nightmare.  They’d crawled along, making little progress, bouncing and jolting on the seats and occasionally taking turns pushing the rust bucket out of puddles that turned out to be more like lakes.  And where there was water there were mosquitoes – buzzing incessantly, biting at his face and hands. 

At night they nearly froze.  Everything was too wet to burn.  Aaron only got worse, wheezing with every breath and shivering with cold.  They’d had to huddle up together in the back seat back-to-back to try and stay warm, sharing a can of beans between them while the rain beat down on the roof.  He woke up one morning scratching at the bites on his knuckles to find his partner bleary-eyed and chuckling to himself.  He wanted to smack the smile off his face.

“What’s so funny?” 

“See the medallion hanging from the rearview mirror?”

“Yeah.”

“Eric gave it to me before we left.  It’s a medal of Saint Christopher – the patron saint of travelers.”

“Never took you for a Catholic.”

Aaron laughed at that, which caused him to dissolve into a coughing fit.

“I’m not.  Neither is Eric – but he read somewhere that those medals are supposed to bring luck so he insisted I take it.”

“I’d say it’s busted.”

“Me too.”

On the fifth day they were finally on the right road that would loop up with the main road back to Alexandria and the rain let up.  Any thoughts of further scavenging or recruiting went out the window.  Both men were relieved to see the highway signs, and to be back on asphalt again.  

They would have made it to the gates by nightfall if the timing belt hadn’t snapped. They were too far out to walk back even if Aaron had been well enough to keep up.  So he’d had no choice but to jack up the front end, remove one of the tires and try and fix the fucking thing while Aaron dozed in the back seat.  In the end he’d managed to patch it up with zip ties.

Then there was another herd.  At least it had waited to emerge until after he got the engine put back together.

“Well ain’t that just fuckin peachy,” he muttered under his breath from the passenger seat, glaring at Aaron as he struggled to suppress his coughing.  He wanted to scream.  Instead he fished a pack of stale cigarettes out of the glove compartment and chain smoked until the road cleared, daring his partner to complain and give him an excuse to hit something.

On the sixth day they ran out of gas.  Even though they’d packed extra jerrycans in the trunk there wasn’t enough fuel to make up for the added length of the trip.  Their food supplies had run low too, but at least the rain provided them with more than enough fresh water.  They decided to hike back.  Before they left the car Aaron snagged the medallion off the mirror and secured it around his neck.

“Wouldn’t do that if I was you.  Thing’s gonna kill you.”

That night he got worse.  A fever set in that no amount of crumbled bits of Tylenol they fished out of their damp bags could fix.  Daryl was no doctor, but it looked to him like Aaron’s cold had turned into pneumonia.  He managed to get a small fire going and scrounged around the roadside for some tansy flowers to make tea to bring the fever down, like Carol had shown him eons ago back at the prison.  

He felt like an asshole for blowing smoke in the poor man’s face the previous afternoon. The least he could do was give him something hot to drink.  It was the best apology he could offer, and Aaron took it gratefully, sleeping fitfully through the night.

They were beyond relieved that morning when they rounded a bend in the road to see a tow truck.  Aaron stayed back while Daryl swept the area, satisfied that whoever the truck belonged to was gone and it wasn’t a trap.  The gas gage showed the tank was almost full, but the engine wouldn’t start.   By that time Aaron had made his way to the vehicle, hopping in the cab while he rummaged around under the hood.  If they could get it running they could go back for the car and his bike.  At least that way they wouldn’t return completely empty handed.

“Think it’s just missin the spark plugs,” he called to his partner.

“Did you see?  This truck has a CB radio!” Aaron called back, more lively than Daryl had heard him in days.  “Looks like our luck’s finally changing.”

Within a matter of minutes they’d managed to reach Olivia on dispatch duty and relayed their coordinates, requesting that someone pick them up and bring a tool kit and some spark plugs.  He’d never been so happy to hear that stupid woman’s voice.

 A half hour later they heard a car from down the road.  As it pulled alongside them he saw Eric jump out of the passenger seat and run towards Aaron.  Then the driver got out.  It was Carol, looking like a fucking angel in a white collared shirt carrying a toolbox.

She smiled when she saw him, but her eyes were full of worry, making him feel like an even bigger asshole.  They should have turned back when they lost the bike.  One of these days his stubbornness was going to get him killed.  Later she’d tell him how awful he looked at that moment; sleep deprived and covered in sweat and engine grease, mud stains up to his knees and pink welts from the mosquitoes everywhere.

He was just about to take her in his arms when he heard Eric’s shout of alarm.  Aaron had collapsed on the pavement.  They couldn’t waste any more time.  With Carol’s help they maneuvered him into the back seat of the car.  Daryl looked from the car to the tow truck.  Who knew when they’d come across something so valuable to them again.

“Take him back.  I’ll stay.  Get the truck runnin.”

Carol glared at him, but Eric didn’t need any further convincing.

“Eric, you go.  I’ll stay here with Daryl.  Hurry,” she said, pressing the keys into Eric’s hands.  He took them without another word and hit the gas so hard when he peeled away he left black streaks on the road.

This was all his fault.  Aaron might die.   _Fuck_  he wanted to hit something. 

Overhead the sky was darkening rapidly and the wind was picking up.  Carol came closer to him, her eyes full of questions, searching his, before she passed him the toolbox without a word.  She’d want to know what happened, soothe him with her voice and presence, but he didn’t deserve that - at least not yet.

He snatched the toolbox from her hands and turned from her abruptly to find a socket wrench and dive back under the hood of the truck.  In his haste he knocked the tiny cardboard box that contained the spark plugs onto the ground, pieces scattering in the gravel at the roadside.  Carol knelt to gather them. 

“Leave it,” he barked. She stopped.

Thunder cracked so loud it shook the earth, and the skies opened up.  Fat drops of rain cast dark spots over her shirt and the green fabric of her pants on her knees.  He hadn’t meant to yell – couldn’t look her in the eyes.

_I just want to get this fuckin truck runnin so I can get my fuckin bike, get home, go to bed and forget this whole damn week ever happened._

She didn’t get out of the rain, but leaned against the side of the truck and waited for him to get to work.  The spark plugs took no time to change, but they still needed to check to see if the engine would start.  He couldn’t take one more failure this trip.

She didn’t say anything when he tossed the wrench back into the toolbox, just pushed herself off the door of the truck and came up behind him.  He felt her hands come up around his arms, but he tensed – too wound up to accept her tenderness. 

The moment was short lived.  A few walkers picked their way through the tree line and onto the road behind them.  Carol pulled out her pistol, but he put his hand over hers.

“I got it,” he said.  The blood pumped so hard in his body he could hear it in his ears, drowning out the sound of the rain and the moans.

He brought his hands around her waist and pulled the trench knife from her belt, admiring the way the blade gleamed.  She kept it clean and sharp, just like he’d shown her.  It was beautiful and deadly.  He couldn’t control much these days, but this –  _this_ he knew he could do.

The walkers looked fresh, a male and a female.  He kicked the woman down with a boot to the chest before spinning to stab the man under the jaw, driving the blade in the rotting tissue right up to the hilt.  The one on the ground grabbed at his ankle, so he turned and stomped on its head, over and over until the pavement was a river of black blood and rain water.

The sound of the truck engine roaring to life brought him back to himself.  He was breathing hard and gripped the knife so tightly his knuckles were white.  Carol hopped out of the driver’s side, and opened her arms to him.  The rain plastered her hair to her head and made her nipples pebble under her soaked shirt.  Whether he deserved her or not, he wanted her, and he couldn’t wait another second.

He wiped the knife on his pants as he strode towards her, watching her arms drop when she caught the look in his eyes.  He sheathed the blade then tugged at her belt, his filthy hands dirtying her clean clothes.  She gripped his shoulders through the leather of his jacket and pressed her face to his neck.

Her body stiffened a little when he groped at her breasts, but it only lasted a second before she was unbuttoning his pants and pushing her body against his.  She was breathing hard when he pushed her back past the open door and against the driver’s seat, ripping her shirt open, buttons flying into the cab and onto the wet ground.

He couldn’t look in her eyes, but focused instead on the glistening skin of her collarbone and the satisfying expansion of her ribcage at every sharp inhale.

“Turn around.”

He didn’t recognize the voice as his, but it had to be.  Carol turned, bending to brace her upper body against the blue vinyl seat, one hand on the steering wheel.  He cursed while roughly peeling the soaking material of her pants past her hips and partway down her thighs.

Greased and bloody hands gripped at the soft white skin of her lower back, just above the perfect dimples of her ass.  He dug his thumbs in them, hard, entering her without warning or ceremony.  She cried out, but he couldn’t stop.           

The rain came down harder, running down her curves to drip between them, spraying off their bodies every time they collided.  Despite his lack of gentleness she was responding to him.  A pink flush bloomed across the flesh of her backside, and he felt her push back against him.  With her legs trapped together it was a tight fit.  He wouldn’t last long.

She twisted her body, gripping the leather of his vest at his shoulder in a tight fist.  She turned her head to look at him forcing him to look straight into her dark eyes, mouth open.  The look spurred him on.  He slammed into her harder and her eyelids drooped, the corner of her wide mouth turning up slightly on one side.  She  _liked_  it like this.

“Daryl,” she panted.  “Look.”

He glanced over his shoulder and saw a walker staggering towards them, tripping on tree branches that hadn’t made it through the last storm.  Fuck he was stupid – a fucking redneck asshole just like every Dixon that ever was.  What did he think he was doing, rutting like an animal with his pants down in the middle of a storm without a weapon in his reach, and the truck engine roaring loud enough to draw them?

He pulled out of her, softening considerably, and ran his hands across his face.  She crawled her way into the cab and he climbed in after her, slamming the door and turning off the motor.  It was painfully quiet now that the blood had stopped pounding in his ears, making the voice in his head, the one telling him what a piece of shit he was for using Carol like that, louder.

There was nothing but the sound of the rain pelting the roof of the cab and Carol trying to catch her breath.  When he glanced over at her he cringed when he saw her shirt hanging off her in tatters and streaks of grime marring her breasts. What the fuck had he done?

She reached down, pressing her face against the dash as she unbuckled her boots and shimmied out of her pants.  At least that’s what he thought he heard her do since his gaze was fixed out the window.  He was too ashamed to look at her.

  Then he felt her hands on his shoulders as she settled her weight in his lap, knees on either side of his hips, ass resting against the steering wheel.  His dick twitched pitifully.

“Hey,” she said, turning his face with her hands and staring hard at him.  “It’s okay.  We’re okay.”

And his shame only grew hotter as tears pricked at the back of his eyes and it became hard to swallow.              

She wrapped one arm around his shoulders and drew his face to her chest with a hand at the back of his head.  She kissed him through his dirty matted hair, murmuring words he couldn’t make out.  He brought his arms up around her, stroking the damp skin of her back with infinite gentleness – like that would make up for what he’d done.

He let himself be lulled by the tone of her voice, her hand combing through his hair, and the sound of the rain.  Eventually he pulled back, an apology poised on his tongue, but she spoke first.

“You know what I’d like?”

 _Not to be treated like some nameless piece of ass,_ he thought.  His eyes fell to her throat.

“I’d like a kiss.  I missed you so much.”

He exhaled loudly.  She forgave too easily, but he was too chicken-shit to fault her for it.

“Missed you too.”

She chuckled.

“Yeah, I kinda figured that out.”            

He flushed.

“Carol –“

“I said it was okay.”

She silenced him with her mouth closing over his.  She tasted of mint toothpaste and tea.  For a moment he felt embarassed at the state of his own breath, but he was too desperate for connection to care.

He loved everything about her mouth – the width of it, the way he could feel her smirk against his lips, the way it narrowed to a line when she called him on his shit.

They kissed long and deep, until the rain let up and the windows fogged.  She pulled away for breath with a swollen smile, and tugged at the collar of his shirt.

“I think you’re over dressed.”   

He leaned forward to help her pull his jacket off and pressed her so hard against the wheel the horn sounded, causing them both to jump.  She laughed, and coaxed him to move to the middle of the bench seat.

“Been a long time since I did this in a truck,” he said.

He was suddenly hyper-aware of how dirty his hands were, and held them up close to his shoulders while she reached down to stroke him back to life.

“Well, it’s like riding a bike.  You never forget.”

She hissed as she lowered herself onto him, and he groaned at the hot pressure of her surrounding him.  She was perfect, grinding against him in slow circles and kissing his mouth, her hands pressed to his chest.  

He braced his boots against the floor mats and his hands against the roof, thrusting up into her when her pace faltered.  Her beautiful tapered fingers reached between them and touched the slick folds of her sex.  He groaned, and she answered, arching her back and twitching from the impact of her release. 

The rapid-fire clenching of her muscles clutched at him so desperately it was hopeless to hold back any longer.

He leaned forward to kiss her throat.

“’Bout time,” he mumbled, lips on her skin.

“Hmm?”

“’Bout time I had some fuckin luck this trip.”

She giggled.

“Tell you what: let’s get dressed and get this truck started.  Then we can go home and you can  _really_  get lucky.”   

 


	6. Wishing Well

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl comes home just in time for a karaoke party.

The world outside the walls was very different from the one inside.  Never was this more evident to Daryl than upon his return from his latest scouting trip.  His back ached from sleeping on the ground for the past three nights.  Even Aaron was sporting dark circles under his eyes.  All he wanted was to check in with Carol and go to sleep.  They barely had a chance to park the car in the driveway and the bike in the garage before Eric was telling them to get cleaned up and meet him at Rick’s.

“What’s goin on? Council meeting or somethin?”

“No.  Eugene fixed our sound system.  Karaoke night is back!”

Aaron groaned.

“Please tell me you didn’t sign us up to sing a duet…”

 Eric looked skyward and grinned.

Good Lord.  What was it with these people? He’d been stepping over mutilated body parts that morning, now everyone was going to sit around and sing show tunes to each other like everything was fun. 

“Think I’ll pass.”

He nodded his head toward Aaron – the best he could muster as a ‘thank you for having my back.’  Aaron nodded back, and he took that as his cue to walk back down the driveway.

“That’s too bad,” Eric called after him, “Carol’s hosting.”

He shook his head and kept walking.  Even if Eric was telling the truth there was no way she was seriously taking part in this shit.  She was probably looking for another opportunity to steal some more chocolate or take stock of the ammo.

He was halfway down the street when he realized that he was headed straight for the party.  He did  _live_  with Rick after all (well, he kept some clean clothes in the hall closet and slept on the couch in the basement).   _I’ll just grab some clean shit to wear and go sleep at Glenn and Maggie’s._

Carl was balancing a diaper bag and a squirming Ass Kicker when he met them on the porch.

“Oh, hey! You’re back.”

The kid smiled at him while his sister grabbed a mitt-full of his hair and attempted to pull it into her mouth.   

“Yeah.  You on babysittin duty?”

 “Dad said it’d be too loud for Judith.  We’re all going over to Mikey’s place.”

“We?”

Carl blushed.

“Me and Enid,” he mumbled, hiding his eyes behind the brim of his hat.

Daryl smirked.  All kinds of things happened while he was gone.  He reached out to tickle the baby’s feet, just to remind himself what her laughter sounded like, then headed inside.

There was music playing in the living room and the sound of people talking.  He dropped his crossbow at the door and went in search of Carol.  Before he could get more than a few steps, he heard a knocking on the door behind him.  The sound of polite knocking still threw him for a loop.  He opened it, and Tara, Glenn, Maggie and Eugene crowded into the front hall.

“Hey!  You made it back in time for karaoke,” Tara smiled.  “Let me guess, you’re gonna go with  _Freebird?_ Maybe  _Carry on my Wayward Son?”_

He gave her a level stare.

“I am formally reserving  _Love Shack_  as it is ideal for my vocal range.  In addition I have mastered the art of sing-speaking, as exemplified by Fred Schneider.  That man was truly kick-ass,” Eugene said loudly, raising his hand.

“It’s all yours,” Glenn sighed.  Daryl felt a headache coming on.  He definitely needed to get the fuck out of here.

“Pssht! Speak for yourself,” Tara retorted.  She turned to Eugene, “ _Love Shack_  is my jam.  You’re going to have to fight me for it.  Rock paper scissors.”  They were readying their fists (while Daryl stared wistfully at the open door) when he caught the sound of her laughter from the kitchen.

Rounding the corner, he saw her leaning back against the island with a wine glass in her hand.  She was barefoot and wearing a purple sundress he’d never seen her wear.  Hell, he didn’t think he’d  _ever_  seen her in a dress before.

 It was sleeveless and dipped low on her chest, making her collarbones stand out like the graceful antlers of a deer.  He could see the smatter of freckles across her shoulders. She was smiling – a genuine smile for once that made her eyes sparkle and crinkle a little at the corners.  She laughed again, raising a hand to her mouth, her nose scrunching in that adorable way that drove him crazy.  She looked good enough to eat.  Then he realized why she was laughing.

Tobin, and one of the other construction guys (Nick? Jack? Fuck if he could remember), were talking to her, telling her some story by the look of it.  Tobin held a wine bottle in one hand, topping up Carol’s glass while he gesticulated with the other.  Was that asshole gawking at her tits?

He stormed over and Nick/Jack/fuck-face caught his eye, the smile dropping off his mug instantly as he nudged Tobin.

“Oh! Hey Daryl.  How’d the run go?” Tobin asked, moving away from Carol.  He kept rambling, not even waiting for an answer to his question.  “Can I get you something? Wine? I think Abe brought beer?”

“Nah. I’m good.”

Carol turned to him then, her eyes full of warm relief and a hint of mischief.  He felt the corner of his mouth quirk despite his flare of jealousy, and flicked his eyes from hers to the men behind him.  She rolled hers and grasped his forearm with one hand, giving him a squeeze as if to say _Welcome home,_ and  _don’t be ridiculous,_  and  _I missed you_  all at once.  He couldn’t understand why, but somehow they did their best talking when they didn’t speak at all.

Her lips were stained from the wine she was drinking.  And even though he was dog tired, all he wanted to do was taste them.  Feel any part of her skin on his.   

“Excuse us.”

She smiled and set her glass down on the counter, steering them to the basement stairs, presumably for some privacy.   If he looked as horny as he suddenly felt she probably thought he’d take her right there on the counter.  He didn’t have much of a poker face.

They were nearly at the door when Maggie came up to them, hugging Carol in greeting.  Fuck! Didn’t people have somewhere else to be?

“Anything you need me to do?”

“I think it’s all taken care of.  Maybe check with Michonne?”

 The stairs down to the basement were dark, but blissfully quiet.  They only made it to the creaky second step before Carol reached back and shut the door, leaving them both in the blackness.  He was still waiting for his eyes to adjust when he felt her hands grip his neck, pulling him down to her mouth. 

She wasn’t fooling around, running her tongue over his lips and kissing him deeply.  All he could taste was the tartness of the wine and the heat.  It made his head swim.  Just when he thought she was letting up he felt her suck his lower lip into her mouth, scraping it lightly with her teeth before she went back for more.

After three days away from her it was more than enough to make him painfully hard.  He pushed her back against the handrail, eager to show her what she was doing to him – and what he wanted to do to her.  He felt her wide smile against his lips.  She pulled back, nose still touching his.

“Hi.”

He stared tugging her backwards down the stairs.  They were only ten feet from the couch he used as his bed, and he didn’t feel like waiting.

She snickered.

“What are you doing?  We’ve got a house full of guests.”

“So?”

He set to work nibbling on her earlobe - knew it was one of her sweet spots.  She sighed.

Suddenly he heard the door wrench open and they were bathed in light, an outline of a body at the top of the stairs.  They jumped apart.

“Shit! Sorry guys.  Michonne sent me down to get more ice,” Rosita babbled, shoving past them toward the freezer with her eyes closed and flipping on the light switch.  Florescent lights buzzed around them.  Carol squinted at him.

“Besides, in this light I can see how much you need to take a shower.”

He huffed, glaring at Rosita as she made her way quickly back up the stairs.  She glared back, muttering something under her breath about _rednecks_  and  _keep it in your pants_.  He felt a blush creep up to the tips his ears.

“Fine.  I’ll shower. But then we’re leavin.”

She frowned.

“We can’t leave.  We’re hosting.  It’s important to keep up appearances.”

He sunk down to sit on the steps with a no small amount of grumbling.  She shifted to sit beside him, leaning her cheek on his shoulder and bringing a hand to the small his back. 

“I know it’s stupid, but the people here – they need something to smile about.  We need them to trust us.”

He remained silent, momentarily distracted by her bare knee peeking out from the hem of her dress.  Before he could stop himself he reached out to touch it.  Her skin was smooth and soft.  She fucking  _shaved_. He felt his blood rush.

“If you stay I promise I’ll make it up to you,” she said, her voice dropping.  She definitely wasn’t helping.

“’Alright.”

* * *

He tried to calm down in the shower, but couldn’t stop thinking about that kiss on the stairs and the feel of her bare legs under his fingers.  He wanted them wrapped around his waist, wanted to hear her pant his name into his ear, wanted to lose himself in loving her until he couldn’t anymore.  He fisted a hand around himself, thinking of her. 

The music pumped loudly from downstairs, and a few seconds later he heard Glenn’s amplified voice singing  _We Will Rock You._

So much for that thought.

He heard the door open slowly and the music blared even louder ( _…you got mud on your face, you big disgrace, kicking your…. Wait? What does that say?  Shit! Sorry!)._

“It’s occupied,” he barked.  Could he even take a fucking shower in peace? 

He heard the rustle of fabric, and a little giggle that had him throbbing again.

“Brought you some clothes.  I can take them back downstairs if you’d rather walk through the living room in your towel,” Carol said, snorting at the idea.  He’d been so pissed at their interruption he took off without grabbing anything.

He peeked his head around the shower curtain to find her piling a clean shirt and pants on top of the toilet tank.  She had her wine glass back in her hand.  He reached out and grabbed it, swigging the last mouthful.

“Hey!”

“I got a better idea. How bout you get in here and we forget about goin downstairs?”

She smiled sweetly and shook her head slowly.  He sighed and passed the empty glass to her, trying to grab her arm with the other hand and pull her under the shower head, but she was too quick.  Carol knew how to be evasive in more ways than one. 

She stepped back and paused before smirking at him and narrowing her eyes, her face flushing slightly.  Without breaking eye contact she bent over, reached under her dress, and pulled her panties (black ones –  _goddamn_  he loved the black ones) down to her knees before letting them drop to the floor.  He swallowed hard and gripped the shower curtain.

She took a step to the side and slid the scrap of fabric down to the toes on her other foot.  Then, with a quick flick of her bare leg, she kicked them straight at him.  He caught them on instinct with one hand.  They were still warm – and  _wet_.

“See you down there,” she said, slipping out of the bathroom with a grin, her hand trailing along the door.  He groaned.

* * *

The thought of Carol prancing around downstairs naked under that purple dress, made him feel a little unhinged.  It was fucking hot, but maddening at the same time.  What if Tobin and fuck-face kept trying to talk to her or saw something they weren’t supposed to? 

He toweled off and dressed in record time.  His hair dripped down the collar of the denim shirt she’d left him, leaving cold damp spots on his neck and shoulders.  Her panties were stuffed deep in the front pocket of his pants.

In the living room the party was in full swing.  Rick was sitting and talking with Deanna in the corner, Michonne not far from his side.  Abe passed Tobin a fresh beer, while laughing at Rosita who was dancing in the middle of the room with Tara.  The girls were holding hands and swinging each other around a little recklessly.  Maggie, Glenn and Eugene sat of the couch cheering.  Olivia was singing now – some god-awful Spice Chicks song that somehow all the women knew by heart judging by the way they were all singing along.  If making the people there happy was the point of all this, it seemed to be working.

Carol stood in the doorway to the kitchen with Jessie watching the show.  She saw him coming down the stairs and smiled at him warmly.  He shoved his hands in his pockets and touched the silky material with his fingertips, growing harder.  Two could play at this game.

The dining room table was littered with beer bottles and plates of food – stale crackers with cheese whiz, sliced apples, jerky, and Carol’s cookies.  He put a cookie in his mouth and grabbed a beer, sat at the table alone and took it all in.  Carol looked over at him, clearly surprised and annoyed that he hadn’t gone to her.  He turned back to his beer and smirked against the lip of the bottle.   _You wanted space, you got it._

 Aaron and Erik arrived then, greeting everyone with smiles and a couple of bottles of wine.  His partner shot him a sympathetic look and raised a wine glass in his direction.  Daryl returned the gesture with his beer and took a long pull.

He was halfway through his second beer, listening to Olivia blather on about her job at the pantry from across the table (being polite was so fucking exhausting), before Carol approached.  She pulled a chair out and sat beside him with a sigh, smiling at Olivia.  She was close enough to smell her skin.  His mouth watered.  He stared at her hard. 

_Get her to shut up. Get her to leave. Please._

Carol reached across him to grab an open bottle of wine, brushing her breasts against his arm as she did so.  He sat up in his chair a little straighter and glanced at her, but she wasn’t even looking at him, just poured her wine and started talking.  Olivia didn’t seem to have noticed.

“So, Olivia.  Sasha tells me that you cure your own meat.”

Olivia perked up, clearly happy to have a conversation with someone that went in more than one direction.

“That’s right.  I used to make prosciutto, you know, before.”

“That’s so interesting!  What’s the process for that?” 

He resisted the urge to roll his eyes.  The woman was clearly buying what Carol was selling.  Olivia rambled on, while Carol interjected at the appropriate places with another question or a friendly laugh, sipping her wine.  She was so good at this shit.

“Most people don’t know that there are two kinds of salt you use for curing: wet and dry.”

“I didn’t know that!  What’s the difference?”

As the conversation continued Carol leaned on the table with one elbow, resting her chin on her hand as though she were engrossed in the process of meat curing.  He was just about to get up and go outside for a smoke, or maybe go find a bed somewhere else to sleep on, when he felt her other hand on his knee.  He gave her another sharp look, but she kept her eyes on Olivia, nodding and smiling.   Euguene was in control of the microphone now, with Tara at his side.  The opening chords of  _Love Shack_  boomed through the speakers, vibrating beneath his feet. 

“… So after about two weeks you have to wash the second amount of salt off the meat and hang it up somewhere dark…”

Her warm hand crept higher, inches from his dick which was pulsing to life at the prospect of her touch.  He shifted in his seat in an effort to get closer, his breath growing ragged.

“Then you massage the meat to get the salt to coat properly,” Olivia snorted, turning a little red in the face, “Oh my god.  I just realized how dirty that sounds – massage the meat.”

Carol laughed, “What happens after that?”

She took a sip from her wine glass, looking as innocent as a lamb as she stroked him firmly through his pants.  His eyes fluttered shut – he told himself it would just be for a second.  The conversation and music faded away as he concentrated on the pressure of her hand on his cock – so perfect.

“You okay, Daryl?”

It was Olivia who had spoken – eyebrows raised, looking straight at him.  Had he just moaned out loud? Fuck.  He saw Carol smirk out of the corner of his eye.  Was she  _laughing_  at him? 

He chugged the last of his beer and cleared his throat before answering.  Carol still had her hand on him, teasing him with feather-light sweeps across his full length.

“Fine.”

“You know, come to think of it I don’t think I ever asked you if you’ve seen any boar out there.  If you manage to kill one, I’d love to have a leg.”

If she didn’t stop soon he was going to come in his pants – in a room full of people - singing  _Love Shack_  - talking about prosciutto. 

“Yeah,” he mumbled, vaguely.

He pressed his booted foot against Carol’s bare toes and pushed down firmly. _Stop._   Her hand stilled.

“Ow!”

Olivia turned her attention to Carol then, furrowing her brows in concern.

 “You alright?”

Carol smiled.

“It’s nothing.  Just a charley horse.”

“Oh, those are the worst!  I wake up in the middle of the night with them sometimes.”

Their conversation was interrupted by Abe and a few of his construction crew.  One of the women, Francine, started talking to Olivia, momentarily distracting the whole table.  Daryl leaned in closer to her, his breath disturbing the strands of hair that curled around her ear.

“You’re gonna pay for that.”

He smiled in satisfaction when he saw her chest flush.  Anyone else would have thought it was a combination of the heat of the room and the alcohol, but he knew better.

“I’m counting on it,” she said, with a look so dark he wanted to spread her wide on the table.

Carol stood up abruptly and went to stand against the wall at the back of the room.  He took a few deep breaths and joined her, hoping no one would notice how he strained against his pants.  He leaned on the wall beside her, hands tucked safely under his armpits.  If he touched her now he wouldn’t be able to stop.

It seemed Eugene and Tara were unwilling to give up the spotlight and quickly selected another song.  Carol tilted her head to the side, staring straight at them.  She caught Maggie’s eye and gave a little wave.

“I’m so wet for you I think I soaked through my dress.”

“ _Stop_.”

The way she said it, so off-hand, like she was talking about the weather, had him swallowing hard and struggling to keep a straight face.  He tried to concentrate on anything else in the room but her.

“What’s this song?”

It was difficult to tell with Eugene barking out monotone lyrics that were somehow off key – or maybe that was Tara.   _Kissing like a bandit stealing time underneath a sycamore tree.  Cupid by the hour sends Valentines to my sweet lover and me._

“ _Wishing well_ , I think,” she replied, sliding slowly towards him until their shoulders touched.

“It’s god awful.”

She nodded in agreement.  Her arm snaked around his waist to rest at his hip.  Her mouth moved closer to his ear.  His own hand had somehow ended up sandwiched between her ass and the wall.  The purple fabric was decidedly damp.

“Let’s get out of here.”

He didn’t need to be told twice.  He grabbed her hand and led her through the hot crowded room, then outside to the porch.  It was dark and quiet.  He was just about to push her towards the porch swing when the sound of loud laughter echoed close by.

Tobin, fuck-face, and a few other Alexandria people were milling about on the porch steps smoking not five feet away.  He could have growled he was so frustrated.  These people were fucking  _everywhere_. He dropped Carol’s hand and reached for a cigarette of his own, lighting it absently with his Zippo.  She slumped onto the swing with a sigh.

He puffed away angrily and stalked away from Carol, waiting for everyone to clear out.  At this rate the party was going to go all night.  He’d had enough of teasing and waiting.   

Apparently so had she.  She watched him through hooded eyes, and pulled her dress up to her thighs, spreading her legs slightly to offer him an eyeful of her glistening sex.  He could see her blood pulsing at her throat, quick and steady.  He looked over at the men on the steps who chatted away, completely oblivious to the show she was putting on just for him.       

“What are you going to do?” she said, all mischief gone.  It was a dare – a challenge he was more than ready to face.  He stubbed his cigarette out on the porch rail and flicked it over the edge. 

“I’m gonna fuck you up against the house.  Now,” he said, voice muffled with smoke.

Her eyes widened and her mouth opened slightly.  A bead of sweat ran down her collar and in between her breasts.             

They practically raced down the porch steps past the strangers gathered there.  He caught her arm and dragged her around the corner and towards the back of the house, shoving her up against the vinyl siding while reaching for the hem of her dress.             

When he finally got his hand between her legs, his fingers sliding into her like it was nothing, they both sighed.  Her hands were locked behind his head, forcing him down for a brutal kiss.

“Christ, you’re wet.”

“I told you,” she panted.

He used his other hand to tug down the front of her dress, exposing her breasts to the air and bending down to suck them.  The muffled music in the house thumped on mixed with the sounds of laughter, but all he could hear was the wet parting of her flesh under his fingers and her gasps.

She sprang to action, clawing desperately at his belt and fisting her hands around him greedily the second he sprang free of his pants.   He pulled his fingers away and urged one of her legs up to wrap around him.  She canted her hips toward his, impatient.

Her thighs were shaking hard with the first thrust, and he hadn’t even pulled back for a second before she cried out, rocking against him urgently.  Her eyes flew open, mouth parted.  He kept himself deep inside her, rocking against her slightly and relishing the feel of being encased in her - the flutter of her muscles, clutching him tighter.

She smiled at him weakly and hitched her leg higher on his hip, drawing him deeper.

“You’re so good,” she murmured against his mouth.  “Fuck me harder.  I need to feel you.”

He nearly came just from that.  He grabbed her other leg, taking her full weight and pinning her with his hips against the siding of the house.  Her arms locked around his shoulders.  He thrust into her with vigour, but little finesse, driving the breath from her lungs every time he crushed their bodies together. 

“That’s it,” she sighed in his ear.

He managed one more powerful thrust, pounding into her before he threw his head back and came so hard his vision went black.  She squirmed against him, quickly rocking her hips while tremors of pleasure washed over his body, making his legs tremble. 

She pulled one leg out of his hand and dropped it to the ground before they lost their balance completely.  He rested his forehead on her shoulder, desperately trying to get his breath back – gain some semblance of composure.  Her fingers combed through the damp strands of hair on his neck.  He was still inside her, throbbing slightly and completely soaked.

“That was…” she hummed.

“Fuckin incredible.”

“Yeah.”

A few heartbeats later he lowered her other leg and pulled himself out of her, staggering back onto the lawn.  She tucked her breasts back into her dress and attempted to smooth the wrinkles at the hem while he zipped up his pants.  She giggled.

“What?”

“You look like the cat that ate the canary.  We go back in right now and  _everyone_  will know what we were up to.”

He snorted.  He couldn’t give a fuck.  Right now all he wanted was a quiet place to sleep for a few minutes before they went for another round.  She took his hand and led him reluctantly towards the front door.

“Can I have my panties back?”

“Nope.”       

 


	7. Rabbit's Foot

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Daryl is teased and Carol provides some reassurance.

It all started innocently enough.  The old folks down the street, Natalie and Bob Miller, gave Carl an old VHS copy of Bambi that they used to play for their grandkids.  Like a good kid he thanked them and brought it home.  He saved the eye rolling over the “baby movie” for his commentary at dinner.  Ass-kicker was enamored with the glossy pictures on the yellowed plastic case it came in, squealing in protest whenever anyone tried to wrangle it out of her grasp.  It was Michonne that finally cracked and suggested they watch the damn thing already – for Judith’s sake, of course.

Daryl stopped chewing the second he felt Carol’s shoulders tense in the chair beside his.  She plastered on a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes and excused herself to clean up the dishes.  She waved him off in the kitchen when he went to check on her.

“I’m fine.  Just haven’t watched that movie since Sophia was little.”

Daryl remembered Bambi well – at least the part where his mom died.

In the end he convinced Carol to do a perimeter walk to take her mind off things while everyone else piled into the living room and put the movie on.  Abe came by to talk to Rick and was soon recruited to bring Rosita, Eugene and Tara over to watch too.  Maggie and Glenn soon followed.

“We oughta charge admission,” he joked, jostling her elbow at the sink and tossing the dish towel over one shoulder.  She nudged him back with her hips and pulled the stopper out with a wet squelch.

Once the dishes were safely put away and the counters wiped down to Carol’s satisfaction they headed out.  It was already the beginning of September, but an Indian summer made it plenty hot.  Sunsets were coming on earlier and soon the leaves would start to turn and he’d be readying for a serious fall hunt.  So much for Bambi – people had to eat.  

There was no doubt that it had been a good summer.  For once they didn’t have death knocking down the damn door every other day.  Whether it was all chalked up to Father Gabriel praying with Maggie every Sunday, or the extra work the construction crew had done to reinforce the wall, he wasn’t about to jinx it by commenting on it.

The best part walked right beside him, waving at the nosey neighbours and smiling like a queen.  Carol had finally started to flourish again in a way he hadn’t seen since the prison, and he was fucking grateful for it.  They had come far too close to losing themselves and losing each other. 

She was a living contradiction, all softness and steel – and all his (at least that’s what she whispered to him in the dark).

The sun sank lower behind the wall as they walked, mostly in silence, watching sparrows taking dirt baths and listening to crickets chirp.  They paused while he skipped some stones into the holding pond.  He caught her looking at him and smiled, suddenly shy. 

The sky was a deep purple – almost black – by the time they made it back to the house.  It was early yet, but he wanted to go to bed, not to fuck but just to lie there beside her.  Be with her. 

“Thank you,” she said, once they reached the porch steps.  He knew she didn’t just mean for the walk.  Suddenly it felt like they were on a date – like he had taken her out for a milkshake and a drive and was working up the nerve to kiss her, or ask her out again, or say something stupid about it being a nice night.   

She flicked her thumb over the puckered scar on the back of his hand that was linked with hers and fixed him with a look that had his heart beating a little faster.  He glanced around at the empty street before leaning in.  Her eyes were big and so clear blue, always telling him exactly what she felt - what she wanted.

He got so close he felt her breath on his lips before he heard a snort and a giggle from over his shoulder.  He wiped his head around to the screen door and squinted to see beyond it.

Glenn, Tara, Rosita and Michonne were all staring at them.  Daryl felt a blush rising.  Michonne raised an eyebrow in his direction and smirked – the only one looking slightly apologetic for the spying that was clearly going on.

 “Ya’ll got nothing better to do?”

“Not really,” Rosita shrugged.

Tara snorted – it had definitely been her the last time too.

“What’s so damn funny?”

Glenn held out his hand in truce, trying to restore some peace.

“Nothing.”

Daryl huffed and glanced over at Carol, who seemed thoroughly un-phased.  No one moved or spoke.  The silence made him jumpy so he started tapping his hand against his leg and his foot against the step.  Glenn kept a straight face for all of a second before dissolving into laughter and pointing at Tara.

“You’re right!  He  _is_  just like Thumper.”

Which one was Thumper? The fuckin  _rabbit?_   He wasn’t sure he much liked the comparison.

“Totally twiterpated,” Rosita said.

Tara laughed harder, spilling out onto the porch with the rest of them.

“Right? Carol bats her eyes at him and he’s just…a lost cause.”

The truth hit him hard.  Did he really look like that much of a sap?  He dropped Carol’s hand like it burned him and clenched his fists against his thighs.  He felt her hand rest gently on his arm.

“Complete with the thumping foot.  You can’t make that shit up,” Michonne deadpanned.

“Alright, alright,” Carol said.  “Glad you all enjoyed the show.  Now go on home.”

Tara cleared her throat and struggled to regain a neutral face.  Glenn wiped tears from his cheeks.

“You’re right.  Sorry Daryl.”

But the apology fell short when Tara snorted again and set them all off, laughing and clutching their sides.   It wasn’t the first time in his life he’d been laughed at.  He felt his cheeks grow hotter and an old anger, one that was never very far from the surface, seeped out.

“Man, fuck all y’all,” he snarled.  Carol flinched at his tone, but he didn’t stick around long enough to feel guilty for it – that would come later.  He stomped back down the street, rifling through his pockets for a cigarette.

“Aw! Don’t be like that,” Rosita called after him.

Hi flipped them the bird and kept walking.

“We’re sorry!” Glenn followed suit.

“Come back Thumper!” Tara yelled.  Another round of chuckles followed, and then he could hear Carol chiding them all in a low voice. 

He stormed all the way to the gate and out to the guard tower.  Sasha nodded in greeting when he reached the top step, a little winded, but still fuming.  She didn’t attempt to make conversation, and for that he was grateful – just gave him an update on the number of walkers she’d sighted on her shift and told him to take over while she went to take a piss.

He played with the scope on her rifle, scanning the dark tree line and the ruins of the abandoned houses just outside the wall – but his thoughts were miles away. 

This  _thing_  he had with Carol was awkward and fraught with growing pains.  Or rather  _he_  was awkward.  He could never tell if he was doing the right thing, or acting the right way.  Even before the turn he had no experience with relationships – at least none that compared to what he had with Carol.  He’d never stuck around long enough to see things through.  Through it all Carol was infinitely patient, always reassuring him with a look or a touch. 

It would have been hard enough  _before_  navigating his way through all the pitfalls and snares of loving someone the way he loved her – but living in a fucking fish bowl, constantly surrounded by judgmental assholes, made it even worse.  There was no escape.  At least at the prison there were quiet spots – places to get away from prying eyes.

He  _knew_  he was fucking things up.  He  _knew_  he looked like a chump.  He didn’t need a live studio audience to provide a laugh track for all his fumbling mistakes.  He was a forty-year-old man for Christ’s sake, not some moony teenager.  It was embarrassing.

He sighed, sighted a stray walker and dropped it with a carefully timed shot.  At least there were still some things he could do right.

Carol would probably be pissed at him for swearing at their friends.  They were just teasing him – he could see that now.  Hadn’t he done the same to Glenn when he and Maggie first started knocking boots? 

He’d gone too far and wrecked a perfectly beautiful night.  She’d probably be in bed right now, worrying about him – huffing into her pillow and cursing his stubbornness.  The guilt hit him hard in the gut, making him feel slightly nauseous and ashamed. 

Sasha emerged from the stairwell then, thanked him for the break before reclaiming her rifle and her perch at the window ledge.  He took that as his cue to leave.

The sky was dark when he made his way quietly back inside the gate. A warm breeze ruffled the hair at the back of his neck.  The air was slightly muggy, making his skin feel hot and sticky.  A few stars were shining overhead.  The sight of them did much to calm him.  They were constant and steady, like so few things in his life were. 

He hoped Carol was in a forgiving mood.

* * *

The house was silent but for the muffled sounds of Rick brushing his teeth in the bathroom and Carl’s soft snoring.  He padded up the carpeted hallway to Carol’s room and froze there, not sure what the hell to do next.  Her light was still on, shining dimly through the crack along the door frame. 

He settled for pressing an ear to the door.  If she was sleeping he’d head downstairs and sleep on the couch.  No sense waking her up.

“Are you going to stand out there all night?” she called out, her voice slightly muted.

He sighed heavily and sagged against the door.  He really  _was_  transparent when it came to her.  When he put himself together a little (clearing his throat and taking a breath) he opened the door and stepped in the room.

Carol was sitting up in bed in a t-shirt and shorts with the blankets kicked down to the foot of the bed, writing in her little notepad.  The window was wide open, but it did little to relieve the heat.  They could always turn on the air conditioner, but it wasted so much power it hardly seemed worth it.  She didn’t look up as he slunk in, just raised one eyebrow and patted the empty space beside her.

He sat heavily on the bed facing away from her, chewing on the inside of his lower lip.

“’m sorry.”

“I’m not really the one you should be apologizing to.”

He opened his mouth to argue with her, but stopped short when he realized she was right.  He felt her shift on the bed, reaching over to flick off the lamp and put down her notepad.  She yawned and wiggled down onto her side, curling up behind his body.  When he glanced down her head was near his hip, her face peering up at his in the dark.  Her hand came up to rest on his back.

“You want to talk about it?”      

He didn’t – just wanted to lie down and forget it – but that felt like the wrong thing to do, like something he would have done  _before_.

He put his elbows on his knees and rubbed the palms of his hands against his eyes, seeing black spots behind his eyelids.

“’m not any good at this,” he began weakly, completely unable to articulate what ‘this’ entailed.

 Her hand began to move in slow sweeps across his shoulders.  It was soothing.

“Don’t like bein’ gawked at… ‘specially when I’m tryin to – tryin to-“ But he couldn’t get any further.  Saying what he was thinking out loud just made it all sound so  _dumb_.

“You didn’t like being spied on,” she offered.

“No.”

She was quiet for a bit, still touching him.

“Are you embarrassed that we’re…  _together_  now?”

He snapped his head towards her and grumbled at the suggestion.

“No!”

“Then what does it matter what anyone else thinks?”

She had him there – but he still protested.

“It ain’t that.  It’s just… There’s no fuckin’ privacy here.  Everybody knows our business – sees me acting like a fuckin’ cartoon rabbit around you.   _We_  ain’t embarrassing –  _I am_.”

She stayed quiet, but leaned forward to kiss the thick skin of his elbow while he went on.

“Don’t know what I’m doin’ half the time.  Look like a damn fool kid.”

He felt her smile against his arm.

“I think it’s cute.  And it goes both ways, you know – You get me all ‘twiterpated’ too.”

He puffed out a breath and felt the muscles of his shoulders loosen.

“Didn’t you notice that I nearly burnt the casserole two nights back?  I was too busy trying to watch you play Chess with Michonne.”

“Hmm?”

“Yeah.  Seeing you concentrate like that is really hot,” she mumbled, dragging her warm lips up his bicep.

“Pffft. Alright.”

He leaned back, pressing into her and pinning her to the bed.  She propped herself up on one elbow and continued her exploration of his arm with her mouth.

“I’m serious.  You have no idea what you do to me.”

She wriggled free and wrapped both arms around him, pulling him on top of her with a giggle.  He tilted his head towards her, granting her access to his throat.  How was it possible for her to feel this way about him?  He was damn lucky.

She kissed his throat before falling back with a huff.

“It’s too  _hot_.”

He had to agree.  The sheets under his hands were already damp with the humidity.  His shirt was sticking to his chest and, as much as he loathed to move away from her, the space between their bodies was heating up rapidly.  She ran a hand through his sweaty hair, lost in her own thoughts for a moment before going still.

“Have you ever gone skinny dipping?”  He heard the smile in her voice.

He turned his head to look at her.  She stared back, one corner of her mouth turned up in a naughty grin.  Maybe the night wasn’t such a complete disaster after all.

* * *

They waited long enough to make sure everyone in the house was sound asleep before stealing a few towels out of the bathroom and sneaking out.  The air outside was still warm, but not as stifling as it was inside.  When the door clicked shut behind them, Carol let out a little giggle.  He caught her around the waist and kissed her under the porch light, like he’d meant to do earlier – slow, and deep, and full of the confirmation of his intent.

She pulled away with a satisfied smile (sucking in her lower lip as if to seal it all in) and nudged his shoulder before turning with a little skip towards the stairs.

The half-moon had risen significantly higher since he’d been in the tower, casting everything in a pale dim light.  He followed after her silhouette striding decisively down the street and toward the holding pond.

During the summer the pond was practically full of kids splashing around and many of the adults cooling off before bed.  It was no more than six feet deep in the middle and built more for a sustainable water filtration system than pool parties (but everything had to serve more than one purpose now).  Not that Daryl knew much about it – there was no way in hell he was stripping down in front of anyone to go for a dip and, when Carl suggested it to Carol one evening, one look at her told him she felt the same. 

He jogged to catch up to her, pulling up alongside her and taking her hand.  It was so much easier to do that in the dark – no prying eyes, no judgment, no one to point out his blush.  There was a small dock on the far shore complete with a little row boat and a ladder into the wider end of the pond.  Carol headed there, dropping her towel on the wooden slats and kicked off her shoes.

“Wow,” she said in a hushed voice, staring out at the still water, “It’s really beautiful.”

He had to agree, the moonlight and the stars overhead made the surface look like oil – glistening black.  He stood transfixed, holding his breath as she shed her shorts and t-shirt, tossing them next to her towel.  Like he suspected, she hadn’t been wearing anything underneath.  Carol was all soft planes and hard angles, and he ached for all of her.

She turned her head, grinning at him – at least he thought that’s what she was doing.  All he could see was the flash of her eyes and the roundness of her cheeks rise in shadow.  She plugged her nose with one hand and walked straight off the dock, slipping into the water with a small splash.  Her head emerged from the blackness a second later, followed by a hitched breath that echoed across the surface as her body adjusted to the cool water.

“Oh, that’s nice,” she purred, paddling around like an otter.  “Get in here.”

Daryl was suddenly self-conscious.  He’d never stripped down in front of her before – at least not with her so far away.

“I won’t look,” she promised, floating on her back.  Her breasts and toes broke the surface sending perfect round ripples to the shore.

Hastily he peeled out of his sweaty shirt and vest.  He was already at attention the moment he slid out of his pants and stepped out of his boots.  She flipped on her front, submerging herself up to her chin, and stared up at him.  He felt his body stiffen.

“Thought you said you weren’t lookin?” he said, voice hoarse.

“Can’t help it.”

He smiled.

“Come on,” she said, practically singing the words like he was some kind of lost puppy.  She was a silver-haired siren, and he was helpless to resist her call.

He jumped in with bent knees, making a much larger splash and taking his time emerging.  The water was cold and dark.  He felt the muddy sponge of the bottom beneath his toes, the hair on his head drift away from his face.  When he came up for air, crudely blowing water from his nose and blinking hard, he saw her shadow moving toward him. 

Soon her fingers ghosted along his arm and across his chest.  He reached for her – drew her warm weightless body closer with his hands sliding from ribs to waist.  She put her feet down and stood up against him, trapping his hardness between their soft bellies. Carol hummed when she felt it and wrapped her arms around his neck.

Like it often did when they were together, the world narrowed to just the two of them – the wide open space all but forgotten.  He groaned when she pressed her slight weight onto him, gliding her legs up his to wrap around him.  Without thinking he slid his hands down past her hips to her backside and held her more firmly against him. 

Her breath caught, and she let out a chuckle.

“That feels good.”

Looking down between their bodies he could just make out the pale flesh of her breasts that faded into black, magnified by the water.  He felt her pert nipples brush against his chest sending ripples of pleasure through his body.

“ _You_ feel good,” he sighed, rocking against her.

She kissed his mouth, her hot tongue a stark contrast to the cool water that surrounded them.  His hands moved to her ribs and up, tracing the dips and swells of her body.  Her arms slid from his shoulders and she floated back, her hips still aligned with his.

“Yes.  I love how you touch me.”

He palmed her breasts, blushing and pressing more firmly when he registered her words.  Her hands came up his forearms, holding his wrists while he explored her.  The pressure between them became almost painful.  He thrust forward, sliding his length against her.  She moaned and tilted her pelvis, rocking back in answer.  

“Carol,” he bit out.

She pulled herself up and kissed him again, hips working them both into a frenzy.  They were making waves now.  He wasn’t even inside her, and he was already so close.

He walked them backwards toward the ladder, stopping to lift her up to sit on a rung just above the surface.  She shivered, exposed in the air and covered in goose bumps.  Her hands clung to the side of the dock.

“What are you doing?”

But he didn’t spare the breath to explain, just ducked the under to pull her legs over his broad shoulders - diving nose first into her.  She was salty and swollen.

 _All for me?_  He thought, slipping a finger inside her.  She groaned.

He lost himself in working her over, drawing his tongue against her and stroking her with fingers puckered wet from her slick sex and the pond.  He let his feet float away from the bottom – grounded to the center of her body and listening to her panting breaths.  When he glanced up at her face her eyes were shut tight, brows furrowed in concentration.  She bit her lip, trying to muffle the sounds he dragged out of her.

Five heart-beats later her strong thighs clamped around his head, shaking and shuddering with her release.

He placed a kiss on the damp skin below her navel and kicked away from the dock to float on his back.  Carol let out a contented sigh and sank back in the water.  Maybe he  _was_  good at more than just killing walkers.   

He felt the water move as she walked the few steps toward him.  Her hands came up under the small of his back and the backs of his thighs, urging his hips out of the water and bringing his erection out into the air.  Her breasts pressed against his side. 

He clamped a hand down on her shoulder, discomforted by the loss of control over his center of gravity.

“Relax,” he heard her say, muted by the water in his ears. “I’ve got you.” 

He saw stars – literally and figuratively – when she took him in her hot mouth, bobbing her head over him like she was tucking in to a feast.  He tensed up, nearly pulling her head under, but her arms held fast underneath him, taking his weight.

Gradually he loosened his grip on her arm - gave himself over to her completely and let his arms float free from his sides.  She had him.   Always did.

Time slipped away.  It was his turn to sigh and moan at the feel of her teeth and tongue coaxing him closer to the edge.  He wanted to tell her to stop – that he wanted to be inside her, face-to-face, when it happened – but the words evaded him as the pleasure surged on, pulsing to the tips of his fingers.

She took him deeper and hummed around him before he lost control, shooting off straight into the back of her throat.  She slowed her rhythm and swept her tongue over his head before pulling away and easing him back down.

“ _Fuck_ ,” he grunted, too dizzy to attempt to stand.

She chuckled.

“C’mere.”

She drifted closer, bringing her face close to his.  He reached up and kissed her, reveling in the taste of the two of them mixing on his tongue.      

“Why didn’t we think of this sooner?”

“Same time tomorrow?”

“Hell yeah.”    


End file.
